


So Many Possibilities

by gerty_3000



Category: Hardcore Henry (2016)
Genre: Eye Horror, Eye Scream, Forced Cannibalism, Gen, is it really cannibalism if it's with a cybernetic eye...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerty_3000/pseuds/gerty_3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't believe I'm christening the Hardcore Henry tag with eye gorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Many Possibilities

"Hello Henry." 

It's the thick accent and strange ennunciation of the first syllable that tells Henry who's greeting him, even before his eyelids flutter open and he's graced with the off-colored visage of his albino antagonist. Akan is grinning. Of course he's grinning, a stupid, shit-eating grin that says he's on top of the world and he's well-aware of it, the baring of gleaming pearly whites in a wolfish smirk. Eyebrows furrow as he stares at the man, and he wants to move to get up, even though the numbness in his arms tells him they've been restrained long ago, and his sense of kinaesthesia tells him his legs, while splayed and spread out in a mockery of relaxation, unrestrained, would not do much. Despite his assessment of his faculties, Henry's legs twitch, as if he were to stand up. 

Akan's smile stretches a little wider and he kneels down, ignores the way Henry tenses and tries to push himself back, or perhaps he takes careful note of it for later consideration. Whatever gears are turning in Akan's head, Henry can't even begin to guess, though he imagines it's unpleasant. He grimaces as Akan leans in, too close, too close. He's sure if his nose weren't plugged with dried blood he'd be able to smell some awful stench wafting off of the pale man, and is glad for a moment that he has to breathe through his mouth. Heenry avoids the other's eyes, looking around wildly, taking in his surroundings, feeling rather desperate in his want to ignore him. 

The room is nothing to marvel at- bare furnishings, white walls, too pristine. He half expected concrete or wood or something more primitive, given that his last encounter with the deranged man resulted in getting whacked with a baseball bat.

He grimaces at the thought, and glanced at Akan. Still grinning. Still studying him. Still with such ravenous glee. It makes Henry's insides turn, and he shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat with a soft grinding noise, almost inaudible. He mourns the loss of his voice, he feels like he has some great one-liners to break the ice. Instead he arches an eyebrow, feeling the pull of a scab on his forehead, and tries to evenly meet the other man's stare.

"Estelle did a marvelous job on you, Henry." He murmurs, voice low, words awkwardly staggered, like he's choking on every syllable. The cyborg ignores the comment, instead wonders if that's what he'd sound like if he had managed to have his voice module installed in time; strangled sentences that seem to need considerable effort to force out. He wonders if he's better off without a voice, but is tugged out of that train of thought by the feeling of cool fingers against his stubble-adorned jaw, grip harsh, squeezing the metallic bone beneath. He's sure that if, as that one scientist had stated, his jaw hadn't been shredded, that the grasp would hurt. Instead, it just makes itself incredibly known, and Henry once more focuses on Akan, who is no longer staring intently at his features but his fucked up eyes are baring into the cyborg's own.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Stares at Akan. Silence fills the room and Henry feels the urge to shift again, feeling immensely uncomfortable with the prolonged stare. He blinks again. Feels the fingers on his jaw shift upwards, crawl along his cheeks, hears the soft skritch of skin against bristly hairs. Henry closes his eyes for a moment, breathes deep through parted lips, huffs out an agitated breath. He feels like... Well, he's not sure what he feels like. He's definitely irritated under the scrutiny, expression pulled in a grimace as he feels the soft pads of Akan's thumbs graze just along the bottoms of his eye sockets, pressing slightly against the thin, purple flesh there.

"These things in you, Henry..." His thumbs move upward, there is a blur at the bottom edges of Henry's vision - Akan's fingertips. They press so slightly against his eyes, and Henry jerks violently in reaction. He can feel the pressure, the light tap of skin against cornea, and is very thankful that he doesn't feel the salty sting of sweat. 

"They're remarkable... True craftsmanship." He snickers, presses harder, revelling in the way Henry gasps and twitches and tries to press himself harder against the wall behind him. Futile. All a futile effort. So easy to crush the technological wonders that now roll wildly around in the cyborg's head. Akan pushes his left thumb downwards, between eye and bone and worms it further underneath, admiring how the white apparatus bulges beneath his touch, maneuvered upwards by the intrusion. There's a hissing noise that escapes from Henry, strained and discomforted. Does it hurt? Did Estelle bless this woeful little prototype with nerve endings? Or is he just reacting to the presence of a thumb now in to the second knuckle inside his eye socket. A wet cracking noise rises above the sound of rushing air from Henry; fluid leaks out from the opening created, the separation of tissue. It's a murky translucent red that oozes down the cyborg's cheek in a lazy trail. Akan murmurs in contentment, leans forward, and drags his tongue along the man's skin, tasting oil and blood and vitreous humor that leaves a tang on his tongue. 

Henry's trying not to move too much, his jaw clamped tight, teeth grit so tight that pain radiates from his enamel outward into the rest of his skull. His legs twitch, numb fingers scrabbling against the binding around him in an attempt to keep from jerking around too much - god forbid he shudder too hard and drive Akan's thumb in any more. At this thought, though, he feels the man's digit wriggle, a pressure deeper inside his skull and he gags on the realization that his resistance of movement is in vain because fingers are curling around the bulb and tugging insistently. His head moves with the motion, pulled forward by the force. He can't help it, he's too focused on the fact that Akan is trying to remove his eye to realize that he's supposed to hold his head still. 

He's wheezing; sharp, pitched, heavy breaths that are drawn through his teeth. He can't scream, he wants to, god, he _needs_ to scream, but he can't, he can't, so he makes up for it by sucking in breaths that rattle through his esophagous like a hand-saw through rotted wood. Akan's left hand is still grasping Henry's eye, still trying to pull it out to no avail- Henry's head keeps moving with it, it's hard to keep himself still from the violent yanking, and with a frustrated noise, Akan grabs a handful of coarse black hair and slams the cyborg's head backwards, he hits the plastisteel wall hard and is held in place. 

So much easier now! Another violent yank and the appendage comes free, dragging behind it the long intwined cords of Henry's eyestalk. His legs kick out violently as if he's been electrocuted, spasming and twitching and he's making a sputtering noise as fluid pours from the open socket and into his gaping mouth. His muscles jump, arms, shoulders, thighs, abdomen, all straining in intervals in an attempt to relieve the pain, or escape the tight ropes around his arms.

Akan pulls the eye out as far as it can go, and it's a considerable length, almost two feet of thick cording. He pulls again -hand still holding the lolling head of Henry against the wall- in an experimental movement, contemplating whether or not he should pull the entire thing out or not. A wicked grin spreads across his pale face and he yanks hard, pulling the thing free with a cruel tug, and a sharp snapping noise. The cyborg would be yowling if he had the voice, but instead, all that comes out from the thrashing man is a gurgling wheeze, he's still choking on blood, it seems. Perfect! Mouth gaping open so wide, his jaw looks like it ought to have been broken.

That could come later, though, and Akan releases Henry for a few moments to occupy himself with the newly detached appendage in his hand. The bulb is slightly crushed from his digging around, but still in working condition. Not for long, though, as he grips the wet thing in his hand and pulls it free of the wires connected, till he's left with a spherical mass in one hand, with a brown iris and shrunk pupil staring up at him, and in the other, a tangle of cords. He tosses the useless wires away and turns his attention back on Henry. His right eye is still intact, rolling wildly around in his head, darting in every direction, barely able to focus on any object, and his left eye sits in Akan's palm, the socket a deep red hole, blood pouring out in sangria colored pulses. Such a beautiful sight. Akan doesn't linger on it for long, though. 

In a sudden movement, he thrusts his hand forward, and pushes the man's eye into his mouth, clamping his jaw shut and forcing it to remain in his mouth.

Henry can't breathe, can't spit the thing out. He tries to inhale through his nose but both nostrils are blocked with long-dried blood, and of course, an obstruction now in his mouth. His chest judders and twitches, motions of him trying to inhale, trying to do anything but swallow the bitter object in his mouth. He can't think of it as one of his own goddamn _eyes,_ the thought is disgusting, so disgusting, he feels the urge to vomit and he hasn't even swallowed it yet. He knows that's what Akan wants, the implication of the hand on his mouth ensuring he can't spit it out.

He shakes his head, hard, struggling against the hard grip of the other man, but there's no relent. His vision is starting to cloud at the sides, darkening, lack of oxygen making his head swim and with a violent shudder, Henry swallows the globe. He retches almost immediately, lurching forward, as much as Akan allows, and tries to keep it down, squeezing his right eye shut, lips twisted in a pained grimace. Don't puke, don't puke, don't puke.

"Oh, that is _marvelous, ___Henry..." Akan practically purrs as he watches the writhing man attempt to keep his own cybernetic eye inside his stomach. Truly an admirable tenacity! He reaches forward, running his thumb along Henry's bloody cheek, smearing the crimson across his skin in a futile effort to clean him up. There's a small smile gracing his lips as he watches the cyborg lurch and retch and shudder in the sheer force of will to keep the organ inside his stomach.

"This opens up so many possibilities, Henry." The man murmurs, patting Henry's cheek condescendingly, and he means it! He adores the prototype before him, who shakes like restraining a sob, spitting out long trails of reddish saliva onto his lap. He admires Henry the way a child on the beach admires a dying, washed-up fish... 

_So _many_ possibilities..._


End file.
